Make It Better
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Sequel to Please, Don't Leave Me. Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better? Jericho/Punk, Jeff/Adam. Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Drama

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, Jeff/Adam, etc.

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning: **Slash, Violence, Mentioned Alcoholism

**A/N:** When I realized that Chris wasn't planning on letting up with the whole alcohol bid, I figured I'd make it into a series. And after his actions last night… _ugh_. John Laureinitis is a real bastard. Punk didn't deserve that at all! So, this is what I came up with. Remember to review!

**Part:** 1/?

**OOOO**

"You look like shit, Philly." Jeff cautiously rubbed Phil's sore back, careful to avoid the little notches were the bottle had bit his skin. Phil wheezed, but otherwise did not make a sound.

"That wasn't fair, Phil. The GM should have never done that to you." Adam said. "I bet you're in a lot of pain, huh? Do you want some Tylenol?"

Phil tried to nod, but winced when it increased the painful heat in his back. "Yeah. That would be nice."

"Okay. I'll be back in a second, Philly."

Phil didn't want to remember what had occurred out there. He didn't want to remember the conversation with Mr. Laureinitis that had set the mood for that match. He didn't want to remember the Power Slam onto the concrete that rattled his lungs and set his back on fire. And he most certainly did _not_ want to remember how his lover had come out and doused his face with alcohol, and then busted a bottle on the back of his head. But it was there every time he closed his eyes. And no matter how hard he tried, the vision wouldn't leave.

"Phil?" Jeff asked after a minute.

Phil took a slow breath, but even _that_ made his chest hurt. "Yeah?"

"Do you still love Chris?"

Phil was silent for a moment, mulling it over. A question like that really shouldn't have required so much thought. But after all that Chris had done, he just wasn't sure anymore. "I don't know."

Jeff 'tsked', shaking his head slowly. Miniature blond braids flew back and forth like propellers. "I need a definite answer, Philly."

"Why is that?"

Jeff shrugged. "If I hunt him down and beat him to a bloody fucking pulp for what he did to you, I want to know if you'll still talk to me."

That brought a smile to Phil's face. "I don't doubt that you would do that, Jeffy. But, really, there's no need for violence. There was plenty of that out in the ring. No… right now? All I want to do is close my eyes and sleep for a hundred years."

The knock on the door resonated through the small hotel room. "Well, I'm not too sure if that will happen anytime soon."

"I don't want to see him."

Jeff understood. He would do his best to keep the other man out. The only problem was the fact that this was Chris' hotel room also… and the only reason that he wasn't here now was the fact that Phil had stolen his keycard. He had also told the front desk not to hand him another one. The woman had looked at him oddly, but Adam had flashed her a small smile and she had melted like butter. Carefully, Jeff lifted Phil off of his lap and set him so that his stomach was flat on the mattress. Once he was covered with the blanket, Jeff made his way toward the door.

He didn't bother to check who it was. Everyone already knew. Who else would come to the hotel room, most likely drunk, at this hour? He opened the door and stared at the man on the other side. Chris' hair was astray, almost as if he had been running his hand through it multiple times. His eyes were red and swollen, betraying his true emotions even as his face was schooled into a mask. Hesitantly, he met Jeff's stare, but quickly looked away. Chris already felt awful about what he did… he didn't need to be reminded of what a horrible husband he was.

"Is Phil here -,"

Jeff cut him off. "You crossed a line out there, Irvine. Constantly humiliating him on live television wasn't enough for you, huh? No… now you had to kick the man while he was down. Are you happy?"

Chris shook his head. "No. No, of course not! How could I be happy when I hurt my husband?"

Jeff's eyes widened, anger quickly filling the void of emotion in his features. "That 'love' for your husband certainly wasn't there when you cracked a bottle over his head and knocked him unconscious, was it?"

"Please -,"

"Phil doesn't want to see you."

There was a moment of silence as Chris' eyes widened, and Jeff took that moment to shut the door. He expected another knock to come, but it never did. So instead, he walked back over to the bed and resituated Phil on his lap. By this time, Adam had come back with the Tylenol and Jeff could tell that it had started to take affect. The pain was lesser and Phil was almost asleep. Slowly, Jeff stroked a hand over Phil's hair. It was partially meant for comfort, but also to make sure that he had taken out all of the glass.

Adam turned to his husband. "Jeff?"

"Shh…" Jeff motioned down to Phil, who had just managed to fall asleep.

Carefully, Adam and Jeff made themselves comfortable on the twin bed. It was a tad difficult, especially with the third addition, but they managed to make due. In that one moment, Jeff and Adam knew that they would do whatever they could to heal Phil in the future… because Creative just wouldn't let this end. But the truth was still there. They would do as much as they could, but until Phil chose to confront Chris, this would never get better. Only Chris could make Phil happy again…

…because, as of now, the future looked grim.

**OOOOO**

**A/N: **I _still_ can't believe that Jericho did that last night! Ugh… anyway, hope you liked it so far. This will be updated as their storyline progresses on Raw/Smackdown, so not as regularly as some of my other stories, but expect updates soon! Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Drama

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, Jeff/Adam, Cody/OC

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems that there is no way to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs. I also do not own the songs.

**Warning:** Slash, Violence

**Part:** 2/?

**OOOO**

_**(Three Days Later, SmackDown)**_

**OOOO**

"The following is a mixed tag-team match set for one fall! Introducing first, the team of 'Dashing' Cody Rhodes and Daylee Hardy!"

**When the sun goes down, down, down, down,**

**Boy are you afraid of the dark?**

**And when the lights go out, out, out, out,**

**Tell me, do you know where to start?**

Cody reached the ring first, holding down the middle rope so that Daylee could climb in. The nineteen-year-old flashed him a small smile, before she slid inside, bouncing around to ward off the nerves that made her stomach turn. Ever since John Laureinitis had become GM of both Raw and SmackDown, there had been matches that were incredibly violent with controversial endings. It was hard to believe that this was only his second time in charge of SmackDown. And to think, both times he had put her in a match with Chris Jericho.

Apparently, Creative had decided to take another turn with Jericho's character. Because Daylee had pinned him in their last match, he had practically _begged_ Mr. Laureinitis for a rematch. Well, the Great Chris Jericho doesn't beg. But it was pretty damn close. And the GM had granted his wishes without a second thought. Cody rubbed her shoulders soothingly. She knew that, if he could, he would take the brunt of the assault for her. Her smile never faltered, even as the music shifted to an all-too-familiar tune…

"And their opponents, the team of Chris Jericho and Alanna Orton!"

**Come on**

**You know I got ya, yeah**

**One, Break the wall down!**

**(Break down the wall)**

Chris didn't wait for Alanna. He didn't hold down the rope like Cody had done for Daylee. Instead, he slid into the ring and immediately singled out Cody, landing blows even before the first bell rang. Quickly, the ref signaled for the bell. Daylee looked uncertain, but when she managed to catch Cody's eye, he nodded to her. Sliding out of the ring, the two friends looked at each other from opposite sides of the apron. Alanna looked remorseful… but there was no remorse from Jericho. There was only frustration and hurt, which he vented on Cody.

Over the course of the last three days, Chris and Phil had not talked once. Chris hadn't seen his husband at all. And it was seriously starting to take a toll on both his body and his mind. All he wanted was to take care of the other man, but Phil was being unnecessarily stubborn. It was true that both he and Phil had to agree to the storyline, but there were certain lines that should never have been crossed. Chris could admit that his judgement had been blinded. If only he could have a chance to explain that to Phil…

"Cody…" Daylee murmured, extending her hand so that Cody could tag her in.

"N-No, Day. I'm fine." Cody lied, wheezing as Jericho stood on his back, holding his neck against the ropes for almost the entire five count. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't want you to get hurt either!" Daylee exclaimed.

"Why don't you shut that pretty-little pot hole, Day-Day?" Jericho snarled, his voice taunting. He knew that Daylee hated to be treated like she was weak. "You look so pretty over there. Don't ruin it with that horrendous voice."

Daylee flinched back as if she had been struck. Cody took the chance to kick Chris in the stomach, but the blond barely flinched. "Don't talk to her like that!"

"What, the damsel can't defend herself?"

Cody kicked him again, harder this time. "Shut up!"

Chris quickly silenced him, easily sliding the defenseless body into the Walls of Jericho. "C'mon. I wanna see what the Energizer Bunny is made of! Or is she all talk and no…" he licked his lips, "…_action_."

Daylee flushed, trying desperately to hide behind her dark brown curls. "I said SHUT UP!"

"You're sick." Daylee spit out. Chris tried not to flinch at that – he had to remain in character.

Just then, out of nowhere, Alanna came up and knocked Daylee off of the apron. The teen slammed down on the concrete floor, her body crumpling as pain showed on her delicate features. Slowly, Daylee tried to roll over and use the announcer's table to climb back to her feet, but Alanna kicked her shoulder and knocked her back down. And then, she stood on Daylee's chest. It was Daylee's pained scream that alerted the ref to what was going on outside of the ring, and the instant he was out, Cody managed to break the hold and pin a surprised Jericho.

However, before the ref could return, Chris broke the pin and started to beat down on Cody again. Outside of the ring, the ref had successfully broken up the two girls. He said that the next to make an illegal attack would cause a disqualification for their team. Hesitantly, Daylee climbed back onto the apron just in time to receive a tag from Cody. She looked back at him, confused. Nonetheless, she climbed into the ring and landed a swift kick to the back of Jericho's head. He went down and she went for the pin. One… Two… he kicked out.

Daylee stood, quickly recoiling back to her corner. Chris climbed to his feet a little slower, and as Daylee went in for the pin, he reached for the back of her red and black outfit. "Where do you think you're going?"

There was a loud snap, and Chris immediately released her. All around fell unbearably silent. And then, the wrestlers realized what had just happened. Daylee screamed, her hands covering her chest and trying to perserve what little modesty she had left. It seemed as if the front of her outfit had busted, and, well… there wasn't much left to the imagination. Daylee sniffled, full-out tears rolling down her cheeks slowly. Holding her outfit together as best she could, she tagged Cody in and ran back toward the locker room.

All it took was one Beautiful Disaster kick from Cody, and the match was over.

**OOOO**

"There. It's done. Are you happy now?" Chris felt awful for how he had acted out there, and what made it worse was the unplanned wardrobe malfunction. The poor kid must be mortified. And he knew how _Cody_ felt about it. But it was all the script that Creative had made for him… he hated the damn script.

"You've done a wonderful job, Irvine. There might be some hope for your character yet." John Laureinitis said. "Now, about next week…"

"What about 'next week'?"

"On Raw, you'll face Bethany Calaway and Carolina Helmsely in a mixed handicap match. Just because they're Divas doesn't mean that they should be underestimated, Irvine. If you take them both down – and you have to pin _both_ of them – then I'll consider giving you one of the future shots at Phil's title."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I have to beat two _Divas_ for a number one contendorship at the WWE title? That doesn't exactly seem kosher…"

"You didn't seem too put off by the idea when you took out the Hardy girl." Mr. Laureinitis said.

"I traumatized a teenage girl! She ran out of the ring, bawling her eyes out – and that was just because of an _accident_. I don't want to take another risk like that." Chris said.

"Do you want your job?" The GM asked.

"What do the two have to do with each other?"

The GM smiled sickeningly. "If you want to keep your job here in the WWE, then you would be wise to reconsider the match with Bethany and Carolina. It will be a career match. You'll retire the both of them, prematurely."

And with that said, the GM walked away. Chris stood there for a moment, astounded. He couldn't believe that he had heard what he did. John Laureinitis wanted him to pull a repeat stunt of tonight, and not only pin two Divas for the number one contendorship, but also end the careers of two perfectly good stars. But what could he do? If he refused to fight, he would lose his job. Absently, he wondered about Daylee. He knew that he would have to find her and apologize, but now the wound was too fresh. Maybe next week? Or… two weeks from then?

Chris continued into his locker room. He sat down on the couch, taking out his cell phone. But what he had hoped to find simply… wasn't… there. He had wanted something from Phil. Anything from Phil to let him know that the other man was okay, because he hadn't seen him or heard from him since then – what made it worse, Jeff and Adam hadn't seen or heard from him either. After staring at his phone for several minutes, he dialed the all-too-familiar number and waited for an answer.

"_Hello?"_ Came the tired yawn.

"Phil?" Chris asked, relieved to just hear his voice.

"_Who is this?"_ It was obvious that Phil hadn't checked the caller ID.

Chris sighed, knowing what was about to happen. "It's Chris -,"

The call ended before he could say another word.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Drama

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, ?/Phil

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash, Violence

**Part:** 3/?

**OOOO**

The next time that Chris saw his husband was on Sunday. The entire roster had recently arrived in the new city, and were currently experiencing a night on the town before their matches the following night. Chris had broken off from the pack somewhere along the road, choosing instead to take up residence in the corner of a little café who claimed to have the Best Coffee in the World. The slogan suited him, if nothing else. He was, after all, the best in the world at all that he did…

Slowly, he stirred sweetener into the coffee, just taking a moment to _think_. Maybe it was all the jibes at Phil's talent, claiming that he had somehow plagiarized Chris. Or maybe it was the constant remarks about his family. It could possibly be the last incident on Raw. And then there was the chance that it was all three combined. He raised the ivory mug to his lips, taking a small sip and relishing the sweetness of the hot liquid. It soothed him and warded off the small chill from the air conditioner.

That's when he saw _them_. He had been foolish to think that he would be able to steal a moment away from the rest of the commotion that seemed to follow him wherever he went. But this time, it wasn't commotion. It was the heartbreaking scene of Phil, _his_ Phil, laughing as John scribbled a small note on his hand because there was a lack of paper. Where was his ring? Because it certainly wasn't on his hand! Chris fumed, squeezing the mug so hard that his fingers turned a vibrant red.

And then, John kissed him. Not a full-out kiss on the lips, but a small peck on the cheek. And… Phil… let… him. He didn't fuss about Chris being the only one allowed the privalege of kissing that beautiful face – well, besides his family of course, but that was another matter entirely. He didn't fuss about the fact that he was _married_. No, he just let it happen. In fact, he even flashed a smile at the older man and said something to him that Chris couldn't quite decipher. And then, John vanished. Chris slammed some bills down onto the table, before he wandered over to Phil.

"Hello, Phil." He bit out, trying desperately to keep hold of his emotions. It wouldn't do to lash out at the man and lose this much-needed opportunity. "I see that you were talking with John."

"Yeah. Is that a problem?" Phil asked, grabbing his water and taking a sip.

The small action revealed the numbers written on the palm of his hand. The bastard had given Phil his phone number. "Actually, it is. Isn't John with Mike?"

"They've been having some problems. They're broken up at the moment. Why?"

Chris continued as if he hadn't heard him. "And aren't _you_ with _me_?"

"I don't know. Am I?"

Chris narrowed his eyes at the younger man, quickly losing his patience. He wasn't in the mood for Phil to be a smartass. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that maybe I just don't want to be married to you anymore. It means that maybe I made a mistake saying yes in the first place." He took a calming breath. "You promised me that you would try to not hurt me, but the truth of the matter is that you haven't tried very hard, have you?"

"Like I said before, I'm only doing what Creative tells me to do. Chris Jericho and Chris Irvine are two completely different people. I thought you would understand that." Chris said.

"Well, in this case, they're both arrogant assholes."

Phil put a few bills down onto the table, before he grabbed his stuff and started toward the door. But Chris wasn't done just yet. This conversation wasn't over. So Phil thought that he was an arrogant asshole, huh? All Chris had ever done was try and take care of him, to love him like he deserved to be loved. And what did he receive in return? All of that love, all of that affection, thrown back in his face like it didn't matter at all. He followed Phil out to his car, slamming the door closed seconds after Phil opened it.

"What the hell, Irvine?" The all-too-familiar words spilled from Phil's mouth.

Chris slammed his lips against Phil's, feeling the familiar spark flutter between them and knowing that Phil felt it too. When the need for air became too great, he pulled back. "Well… this 'arrogant asshole' still loves you, whether you love me or not. And I will win you back."

"You always say that you'll take care of me. That you'll make it better." Phil said. "But then, you turn around and pull an even stupider stunt. How is that supposed to make me feel?"

"I never meant to hurt you, baby…"

"Yeah, well, look how that worked out." Phil rolled his eyes, before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his ring. With a sigh, he put it in Chris' hand. "You can have this back. I don't need it anymore."

Chris stood, frozen, not able to believe what had just happened. In that time, Phil managed to climb into the car and drive off. But Chris continued to stare at the small, gold band. Phil was willing to just walk away from him, from _them_, and leave it all behind…. Maybe Phil had never loved him. But no, that couldn't be true. Chris _knew_ that Phil still loved him, somewhere deep down. He would just have to awaken that instinct within him… somehow.

**OOOO**

**A/N: **Please Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Drama

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, Jeff/Adam, Cody/OC, Mark/Randy, Hunter/Shawn, etc.

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part: **4/?

**OOOO**

The resounding _smack_ of a fist connecting with a face echoed in the empty hallway. Phil's eyes widened as he stumbled back, his cheek already turning a vibrant red and swelling rapidly. When his back hit the wall, he stared at the somewhat menacing form of the GM. John was breathing heavily, his face flushed, and his suit jacket thrown on the floor. John took a step closer and, instinctively, Phil tried to take a step back. But his back was flush against the wall, and now, there was nowhere to go. Wrapping his arms around his middle, he desperately tried to look anywhere but directly at the GM, but the man's hand closed around his chin and forced him to look into his eyes.

Phil tried to wrench away, but that was a mistake. Before he even had time to blink, another fist connected with his cheek, landing directly over the bruise. Olive colored eyes slid closed as the pain sent electric sparks down his body, nausea creeping into his system ever so slowly. He took a breath, his body sliding down the wall of its own volition. But the GM's hand clenched around his shirt and yanked him back onto his feet. Once again, he was forced to look into the man's eyes. He didn't understand why the GM hated him so much. People shouldn't be so afraid to be able to speak their mind…

"Are you done?" John hissed, his eyes steeled over and his other hand clenching at his side.

Phil squeezed his eyes closed. "Is that the best you have?"

He almost received another hit for that comeback, but John caught himself. Instead, he laughed. He laughed as if all of this was just a fantastic _joke_. "I don't think you understand, _Punk_. Your _fans_… your _title_… your _job_… it's all ancient history. I'm not sure if you heard, but your sweet husband… he's agreed to another shot at your title."

Phil's eyes widened, the sheer disbelief obvious on his face. "But, Chris… he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt me like Mark Henry did…"

"Guess your husband isn't the wonderful man you thought he was."

"No! Don't say that!" Tears leaked down his face now, stinging the cut on his face from where the GM's rings had sliced his face. "He loves me."

"Aww, that's so sweet. It's sickening." John said. "If he loves you so much, like you say, then where is he now? Why isn't he here to defend you?"

"Because I can defend myself!"

"Oh, really?" John sounded shocked. "Then why haven't you hit me back?"

But Phil didn't hear him. He was still reeling from the fact that Chris had agreed to all of this. That he had agreed to retire Bethany and Carolina _way_ before their time, and had made another attack on Daylee. This couldn't be the same man that loved him… could it. Biting his lip tentatively, he wasn't surprised to feel hands bunch the material of his shirt and thrust him violently into the wall. He spluttered, the wind knocked out of his lungs. Once again, John made him look into his eyes. Phil hated this man. He hated him for what he was trying to do with his relationship to Chris. But most of all, he hated himself for letting it happen.

"When I ask you a question, _Punk_, you ANSWER me! Is that understood?"

"Loud and clear, _sir_." Phil hissed, closing his eyes to the pain. "Bastard." He muttered under his breath.

He missed the GM's sickening smirk. "You will tell _no-one_ about what happened here. Not that they'd believe you, anyway. And next week, when you're medically cleared to wrestle, you'll defend your title again."

And with that, the GM vanished. However, his presence was soon replaced with another. Chris wandered down the hall, still filled with adrenaline from his match. He hated what he had done to those girls out there, but John Laurainitis held that power over all of the wrestlers on the roster. With their jobs in the palm of his hand, he could do pretty much anything he wanted. Warm blue eyes fell on his husband, who was huddled in the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. When he saw the blood on his face, he quickly rushed over to him. He touched a hand to Phil's shoulder, but Phil flinched away.

"Don't touch me!" Phil hissed, the small movement of his shoulder sending flares of pain across his body.

"Phil, baby, please…" Chris pleaded. "I just want to help you."

"When were you planning on telling me that you 'earned' another shot at my title, huh?" Phil inched away from him slowly. "You know I hate it when you keep stuff from me."

"I'm so sorry, baby…"

"Just leave me alone…" And Phil ran away from him again.

**OOOO**

**A/N: **Please Review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make this better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part: **5/?

**OOOO**

"_Do you, Chris Irvine, take Phillip Brooks, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" Pastor Nelson asked solemnly._

_Chris smiled at the other man, slowly sliding the ring onto his hand. "I do."_

"_And do you, Phillip Brooks, take Chris Irvine, to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?" The pastor asked once more._

_Phil nodded, tears collecting in his eyes. "I do."_

"_Then, by the power invested in me, I know declare you husband and huband. You may kiss the groom."_

_Gently, Chris wiped the tears from Phil's cheeks. The younger man offered him a watery smile, still trying to take everything in. It was hard to believe that all of this was _actually _happening. He was finally marrying the man of his dreams. They would be together forever. And no-one would ever come between them. Just then, Chris leaned in and claimed his lips in a passionate kiss. The crowd of family and friends burst into applause, causing a soft flush to color Phil's cheeks. Chris' warm arms enveloped him like a safety net, holding him close and showering him with promises to never let go. And Phil believed him…_

Phil just kept moving. There was no time to look back, no time to second guess himself. The drive back to the hotel was made in silence, the soft music from the car radio long forgotten in exchange for the sound of the wind as it whipped against the car. Hesitantly, he reached up and traced a hand over his still-swollen cheek. He hated the GM with a passion, and he knew that as long as Raw and SmackDown were under his control, people were going to get hurt. It had been seen in the match with Lord Tensai vs. Alex Riley. It had been seen in the match with The Miz vs. Zack Ryder. And it ate Phil up on the inside.

His cell phone buzzed on the passenger seat, but he didn't even spare it a passing glance. He knew who it was, and he didn't want to talk to him right now. As he sped down the stretch of road, it took him a moment to realize that he had driven right past the hotel. And… after a second… he realized that he didn't care. Maybe he had never wanted to head back to the hotel in the first place. Maybe he didn't want to be surrounded by all of the memories anymore. All he wanted, no… all he _needed_ was some extra time to think. And maybe, once all of this was sorted out, he and Chris could be happy again.

_Phil curled into Chris' side instinctively, still coming down from his impressive orgasm. It was the second day of their honeymoon, and they had not left the bed unless it was absolutely necessary. More than anything, even the sex, Chris loved to hold Phil. To feel the powerful body wilt in his arms, to feel him hand over all control so easily, always made his heart flutter. He knew that Phil trusted him more than anyone else in the entire world, and he was honored by that fact. Slowly, he stroked the other man's black hair, the tendrils slick with sweat. He decided that nothing could be more perfect than this._

"_Chris?" Phil asked after a minute, smiling up at the older man._

"_What is it, baby?" Chris asked, leaning down to kiss Phil's forhead. The ravenette practically purred at the sentiment. "You know that you can tell me anything."_

_Phil's smile never faltered as he snuggled into Chris' chest. "I just wanted to tell you how much I love you."_

_Chris returned the smile. "I love you too."_

"_Forever?"_

"_Forever and a day."_

_Chris saw that Phil's eyelids had started to become heavy, so he reached down and pulled up the blanket so that they were situated comfortably underneath. The Straight-Edge Savior snuggled deeply into his side, almost as if he was trying to make their two bodies become one. Chris smiled, loving how sweet his baby was in these moments of vulnerability. These were the moments that only he was allowed to see. And he liked it like that. Gently, he continued to stroke Phil's hair until the younger man's breath evened out, and he had fallen asleep. And then, making himself comfortable, he followed Phil into dreamland._

"I hate this!" Phil exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel so hard that a thick, red mark appeared across his palm. "I just want everything to go back to normal. I just want him to love me."

"_How much do you love me?" One midsummer afternoon, when they were both out in the countryside, Phil asked this question of his husband._

"_What makes you ask that?" Chris countered. Lazily, he stroked Phil's hair._

_Phil frowned. "Why don't you want to answer the question?"_

"_Philly, baby…" Chris kissed his forehead, smiling softly when the ravenette squirmed against him. "Do you really need me to be all sappy in order to tell you how much I love you? I love you more than anything and everything. And nothing… no-one… will ever change that. Do you believe me?"_

"_Yeah." Phil nodded, burying his face in the crook of Chris' neck. "It's just nice to hear you say it."_

"_Never be afraid to ask me anything, baby. I'll always be there for you."_

"_And I'll be there for you. Forever."_

Phil now knew where he was going. He needed time to think, away from all of the pressures of the WWE. Not wanting to worry anyone, he would call Jeff and Adam tomorrow morning and let them handle the fall-out. But, right now, he needed guidance. He needed a second opinion. And what better place to receive all that and more, than to return home?

**OOOO**

Tears streaked down Chris' cheeks for the first time in all of the weeks of this horrendous storyline as he climbed onto the bed, somehow knowing that Phil was not planning on returning to their hotel room tonight. He wrapped Phil's shirt around his hands, inhaling the familiar scent of his husband. He wished that he knew where the younger man was, because then he could at least know that he was safe. Silently praying that the younger man was safe, he clutched the shirt a little tighter… and fell asleep.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil

**Summary:** Sequal to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part:** 6/?

**OOOO**

Chris was not surprised to find that he awoke to an empty bed. Lazily, he stretched out, Phil's t-shirt still wound around his hands. The tears that had once streaked down his face were dried, but he felt as if there were still more to come. Taking a deep breath, he sat up and climbed out of bed, walking over to the suitcase that belonged to his husband and putting the shirt back where it belonged. But the second that the soft material fell from his hands, he felt as if he had lost a part of himself. That he had lost _Phil_.

He shook his head, leaning against the wall and sliding down slowly. If someone had told him that this would happen on his wedding day, he would have never believed them. Because he and Phil were _meant_ for eachother. And even if Phil didn't believe in luck or destiny, as cliché as it sounded, the day that Phil walked into Chris' life was the _luckiest_ day of his life. Like he had told him so many times, he couldn't imagine life without him… no, he didn't _want_ to imagine a life without him. Not when Phil had already made his life a thousand times better.

With a sigh, he reached back into the bag and pulled out the shirt. Carefully unfolding it from the bundle that it had been in, he realized that it was Phil's 'Best in the World' t-shirt. That was what had caused this whole dilemma in the first place. If _Jericho_ hadn't been so damn jealous of that fact that another claimed to be the 'Best in the World', then Irvine wouldn't have to deal with the fallout. It hurt to think that Phil really thought that he felt that way. Why couldn't Phil realize that, in Chris' eyes, he _was_ the Best in the World?

Taking out his cell phone, he stared at it for a minute. If he even _dared_ to call the younger man, would he answer? Would he hang up when he found out who was on the other end? And was all of this worth the risk, just to hear his voice one more time? Chris contemplated all of these questions for a moment. In the end, he realized, he couldn't handle another horrible rejection. With each denial, he felt his heart slowly shattering. And he didn't think that he could pick up all of the pieces alone…

However, it would seem as if he didn't have a say in whether or not he wanted to talk. His phone went off seconds later, and Chris looked at the caller ID. Jeff Hardy. Long ago, before they had been married, Phil had insisted that Jeff and Chris exchange numbers 'just in case'. But Chris had never wanted to dwell on that 'just in case' scenario. Now, his heart froze in his chest. What if something had happened to Phil? What if he was hurt, or sick, or _dead_? No, he couldn't think like that! He had to remain calm!

"Hello?" He answered, unable to keep his voice from trembling.

"Chris?" Jeff asked hesitantly. Chris made an affirmative noise. "Look – I don't want to do this. You don't want to do this. So let's make this quick, okay?"

Chris felt like he was about to faint. "Okay…"

"Late last night, Phil sent me a text saying that he was 'done' with all of this. I kinda just thought that he was done with the bastard of a GM, so I didn't think too much of it…"

"What do you mean he's 'done'?" Chris exclaimed.

"Would you let me finish?" Jeff asked, exasperated.

"Fine."

He could almost _hear_ Jeff roll his eyes. "_Anyway_, I got a call from him this morning, saying that he was about to catch a direct flight out of Orlando to Chicago. He said that he needed some guidance from his mother. And, if he recieves the answers that he needs, he'll be back."

"And if he doesn't?" Chris was afraid to ask, but he did so anyway.

"He didn't say."

Chris looked down at the shirt that he still held in his hands. "Well… thanks."

"Whatever." Jeff said, his current mood obviously less than cheery. "Just… don't… screw… this… up. Or I _will_ hunt you down. Understood?"

Chris nodded, even though the high-flyer couldn't see it. "Understood."

"Good."

Then, the line went dead. Chris stared at the phone for a minute, a little bit afraid. Taking a much-needed breath, he tossed it across the floor and pulled the material of the t-shirt tighter in his hands. It was stretched as far as it could go without tearing… and Chris _really_ didn't want to tear it. Phil would kill him, and Phil was already mad enough at him as it was. So, he thought back to the conversation with Jeff. What did Phil meant when he said that he was 'done'? Did it have to do with their relationship? With his job?

But out of all of this, Chris was mostly afraid of the advice that would come from Phil's family. Most of them were unaware that Phil had also agreed to this storyline… and it _really_ didn't look good for Chris. Of course, he had met the entire family at the wedding. Phil's mother had been ever-so kind to him, and his father had been very welcoming. They were the perfect family. And Chris had been so glad to be able to be considered a part of that family. But now that he had hurt Phil, would the tides turn?

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Well, that's it for this chapter. I would've made it longer, but I'm participating in a sunrise service in a half an hour and I have to go get ready. More updates to come soon! Thanks for reading and please review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part:** 7/?

**OOOO**

"If Jeff knew that I was here, he would have a fit." Adam said, taking a seat across from his best friend of several years. "But, I'm here, and that's what matters. And I'm here to talk to you about Phil."

Chris had decided that he needed someone to vent to, someone to hear his side of the story. Immediately, the first person he turned to had been Adam. Of course, he knew that there would be some complications, considering the fact that Jeff was adamantly taking Phil's side… but he needed someone to talk to, and Adam hadn't hesitated. So now, the two sat across from each other in a restaurant that Chris had selected. Each waited for the other to talk first, before Chris finally broke the silence.

"I know that it doesn't seem like it, but I never meant to hurt him." Chris said, looking down at the tablecloth.

"Have you told that to Phil?" Adam asked, and Chris shot him a 'look'. Adam rolled his eyes. "Just answer the question, Irvine. I can't help you if you won't cooperate."

Chris swallowed hard. "Of course I told him that. I tried to tell him that Chris Jericho and Chris Irvine were two completely different people, and he called me an asshole. I tried to tell him that I still love him, and he gave me back his ring! What am I supposed to do, Adam?"

Adam was silent for a moment, before he said, "Phil is feeding off of your reaction."

"What?" Chris asked, confused.

"His emotions… his reactions… all of it, are a derivative of how_ you_ act first." Adam explained. "He's upset, and therefore he wants you to hurt as much as he does. He still loves you. He just can't come out and say it."

"'Guess that makes sense…" Chris trailed. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Phil had always had trouble expressing his emotions, and this situation must be making it ten times harder.

"Of course it makes sense." Adam smirked. "It was my idea."

"Don't let it make your head swell."

Their food came, and the two ate in a relatively comfortable silence. But Chris was still thinking about Phil. All of the love that they had… all of the good times that they had shared… lost because of a stupid storyline. It just wasn't fair. Taking a sip of his coffee, he thought back to when he smashed the bottle over the back of Phil's head. Even if the bottle didn't _actually_ hit, it still sent a message loud and clear. Jericho would do _anything_ to regain his title of 'Best in the World'. Even if it meant destroying Chris' relationship with his husband.

And it wasn't even so much the physical act of smashing the bottle over Phil's head, then the psychological damage that accompanied the action. In doing this, he showed just how little he cared about CM Punk… to hit him while he was down and hurt, to embarrass him in front of a live audience and millions of at-home viewers, to try and drive it home with a kick to the head. Chris knew that what he had done was wrong. And if he had the chance, he would spend the rest of his days making it up to Phil. But he had to win Phil back first.

Adam yawned. "Sorry, it's really not the company. We were with Daylee in the hospital last night 'cause she had to get twenty stitches in her forehead. That kid really hates needles…"

Chris' blue eyes widened. "What happened to her?"

"The GM sanctioned a match between her and The Big Red Monster. She fell awkwardly and smacked her head on the apron." Adam answered, his eyes narrowing at the mention of the GM. "When Kane saw all the blood, he forfeit the match."

"You know," Chris said, thinking back to when he had last seen his husband. "Phil had said that he had to talk to the GM, but when I found him the one side of his face was swollen and bruised. You don't think that the two could be related, do you?"

"I don't know." Adam shook his head. "I can have Jeff ask him, just to be sure."

"Thanks, Adam. It means a lot that you would take the time to come talk to me."

"Not a problem, Chris." Adam smiled. "I'll see you when I find out more about Phil's condition."

**OOOO**

Phil lay on the bed in his old room, so exhausted that he couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to sleep on the plane, either. Ever since he and Chris had started having sex, Phil found it nearly impossible to sleep without the other man's arms around him. He didn't even have his suitcases, so he couldn't take out the old shirt that he had stolen from Chris' dresser and hold it… like he would when Chris was on DWTS. It reminded him of his lover – at the time – and made him feel safe. Was that too much to ask for?

Taking a deep, calming breath, he remembered the intitial shock on his mother's face when he showed up on her doorstep at noon. He looked like he was about to collapse from utter exhaustion – he had driven the entire night to reach the airport and had booked the first flight to Chicago that he could. (It must have been pure luck – or something else entirely – that his wallet was the only thing that he had on him). He could tell that she wanted to ask about the bruise, or the lack of wedding ring, but she held back and instead led him to his room so he could rest.

But Phil couldn't stop thinking long enough to get a wink of sleep. It taunted him, almost taking him into it's warm embrace, and then violently shoving him back into the world of the waking. Tentatively, Phil reached up and touched a hand to his swollen cheek. It hurt like hell. For a man who hid behind 'The People' to make shitty decisions, he certainly had one hell of a left hook. Which made him wonder, why _hadn't_ he told Chris what the GM had done to him? And then he scoffed. Would Chris have believed him?

"_I promise to love you… to cherish you… to protect you… and to lead you on toward a brighter future, together. We'll be together forever, baby. Forever…" _

Phil smiled, trying to bite back tears and failing. Chris had always been so _raw_ with his declarations of love, and it made Phil's heart ache. Squeezing the pillow tightly to his chest, his eyes fell on the cell phone on his bedside table…

Maybe…

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part:** 8/?

**OOOO**

Phil reached for the phone and dialed the all-too-familiar number. His husband answered before the second ring. "Hello?" Chris' voice floated over the line.

"C-Chris?" Phil's voice trembled as he said his husband's name. It felt like forever since he had heard his voice.

"Baby?" Chris sounded shocked, but continued. "Philly, what's the matter?"

"I miss you." Phil swallowed hard, and felt tears burn at his eyes.

Almost as if Chris could see him, Chris was quick to placate him. "Shh, baby-boy. Please, don't cry. You know that I hate it when you cry…"

Phil sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm pathetically. "I just… I just really wish you were here. I don't want to be without you. I'm sorry about what I said. I know it hurt you."

"It doesn't matter, baby-boy. All of that is history. All that matters to me is _you_. Are you okay?"

"No." Phil answered honestly. "I need you."

Chris was silent for a moment, and Phil was worried that he had lost him. Finally, he started to speak again. "Where are you, baby-boy?"

"I'm at my mom and dad's house." Phil said.

"You know that I'll be there as soon as I can, baby-boy. But… we're looking at four hours at the _least_." Chris sighed. "Do you think you can hold out till then?"

"Y-Yeah…" tears slowly leaked from his olive-colored eyes. "…but…"

"But what, sweetheart?"

"Could you… talk to me? Just until I fall asleep." Phil asked hesitantly.

"Of course, baby-boy. Whatever you want."

Phil smiled, the tears finally slowing as Chris' warm voice flowed over the line. There weren't words to describe how much he had missed hearing that voice speak to him lovingly, telling him that everything was going to be okay. He wondered how he had lasted all of this time, purposefully hurting the owner of that voice. Even though Chris had hurt him first, it still didn't excuse what he had done. After a few moments, the tears ceased completely. He relaxed into the bed completely, finally able to fall asleep.

On the other end of the line, Chris smiled when he heard Phil's soft snores. The pleasant conversation was a welcome twist from the conversations that they had been having as of late. Quickly, he ended the call and set the phone aside. Not really knowing what to pack or how long he would be there, he threw all of their suitcases into his rental and started for the airport like a madman. Most would think he was drunk. But Chris knew the truth. He wasn't drunk… he was in love.

**(Four and a Half Hours Later)**

Phil flinched when he felt warm arms wrap around him from behind, and soon after a firm body pressed against him. But the owner of the body softly shushed him, reaching up to twirl a dark hair around his finger. The familiar scent of his husband washed over him. Chris! Quickly, he wrestled out of the man's hold, only so he could turn around and throw his arms around the man's muscular body. Chris laughed, cradling the smaller form in his arms. He had missed this so much.

"I am so sorry about what I said to you." Phil said honestly. "You know that I didn't mean it."

"I know baby-boy. I know." Chris answered, trying to calm the Straight-Edge Savior.

Without taking the time to think properly, Phil climbed on top of the larger man and kissed him _hard_. Chris' eyes widened as he felt Phil's hips thrust down against his own, both of them already sporting impressive erections from the kiss alone. This wasn't like Phil. Normally; Phil would want to talk the entire situation to death. He had trouble conveying his emotions, but he loved to talk. That was something that Chris would never understand. But, right now, talking was the last thing on his mind.

Maybe it was a mistake to let him get away with it, but right now, Chris wasn't really thinking straight. It had been far too much time since he had had his baby like this, and it was clouding his judgement. The talking could wait until later. Phil's hands knotted into the material of his shirt and tore it in half, ripping it off of his chest and covering his lips in a breathtaking kiss before he had the chance to protest. Not that he would have, anyway. Trailing further downward, he slid Chris' belt out of the loops and tossed it aside, before he started to unbuckle his pants.

However, before he could take them all the way off, Chris rolled over so that Phil was on the bottom and started to work on his pants. Silently, Phil thanked whoever would listen that he had taken his shirt off when he had first arrived… it certainly saved time. Phil's jeans flew to one side of the room, Chris' the other. The boxers followed shortly thereafter. There would be time for foreplay later. Quickly, Chris reached for the lube and went to slick his fingers, but Phil stopped him.

"No prep… I want to feel you… _all_ of you. Take me now." Phil said.

"But baby, I don't want to hurt you…" Chris trailed off, uncertain.

"_Take me now!"_ It was no longer a statement, but an order.

Not wanting to incur even more wrath from his beloved, Chris quickly slicked himself up and gently pressed the head of his cock to the younger man's entrance. When Phil thrust back against him impatiently, he quickly thrust in until he was balls-deep in the smaller man. Blunt nails dug into his back, urging him to move faster. It had been far too long since they had been intimate, and they both _needed_ this. Chris slowly started to thrust, but that speed was not good enough for Phil. Somehow managing to flip them both over, Phil started to ride the older man.

The end came much too soon. Phil came first, arching his back as he slowly ground his hips down onto Chris. Chris moaned, throwing his head back as he filled Phil to the brim with his seed. When they came down from their high, Phil slid off of Chris' manhood and curled into his husband's side. He didn't want to talk, but he knew that they would have to at some point. Chris gently stroked Phil's hair, relishing in the familiar presence of his baby.

"I love you so much, Chrissy." Phil said. "Promise me that this is behind us now?"

"I promise, baby."

"Do you love me, Chris?" Phil asked.

Chris nodded slowly. "I love you, baby. Forever."

Little did they know that the worst was still ahead…

**OOOO**

**A/N: **New Raw tonight, which means an update on the storyline! Stay tuned for the next update!


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part:** 9/?

**OOOO**

**(One Week Later)**

**OOOO**

Chris tried to wrap his arms around the smaller man, but Phil fought out of his hold. Tears collected in the ravenette's eyes as he frantically scrubbed at his skin with a towel, which had been thrown at him by an unseen man when he reached the backstage area. He reaked of alcohol. Just like he had always feared, he smelled just like his father. As for Chris' actions… he had come around to Chris' innocence the first time, but the second time _burned_. And it was almost as if he had _encouraged_ Henry's actions toward him.

Chris flinched when Phil turned around, showing that his back had basically become one… gigantic… bruise. It must have hurt like all else. Gently, Chris reached out, touching the tender skin. Phil howled, moving away from him as quickly as possible. When Chris advanced on him again, he started to back up toward the wall. Phil's eyes widened. Suddenly, it wasn't Chris standing across from him, but John Laurinatis. He could still see John's fist flying at his face. And, without really realizing what he was doing, he shoved Chris away.

"I fucking _hate_ you!" The words tumbled from his mouth before he had a chance to filter them. His eyes widened at his own hostility, but no-one was more shocked than Chris.

"Y-You don't mean that…" Chris said, startled. "I love you. You know that I would never do this to you on purpose, baby-boy. So please, _please_, don't hate me…"

"I smell like a dirty, sleezy bar!" Phil hissed. "How could you do this to me? You promised that this was over!"

"Creative said -,"

"To _hell_ with what Creative said!" Phil screamed, shoving off of the wall and trying to walk toward his locker room. Chris followed closely behind. "You could have said no. You could have said no."

"I didn't have a choice -,"

"YOU ALWAYS HAD A CHOICE!" Phil slammed his fist into the wall, wincing when white-hot pain shot up his arm.

Phil's entire body trembled as he tried desperately to hold back the tears. This conversation was attracting a lot of unwanted attention. Taking a breath, he pushed off of the wall and made his way back to the locker room. He knew that Chris was following close behind, but he didn't care. Walking into the room, he tried to slam the door behind him. However, Chris' hand reached out and caught it before it could close. He invited himself in; looking at the man whom he loved… the man that he thought loved him.

"I can't believe I let you…" Phil trembled, just thinking about how he had acted last week. "I can't believe I trusted you with my heart like that! I can't believe I let you _sleep_ with me!"

"You regret having sex with me?" Chris asked, hurt and affronted at the same time.

"I… regret… _marrying_… you." Phil said, his eyes filling with tears.

Suddenly, the silence became overwhelming. Chris tried to control the hurt and anger that were aroused at that declaration, but it was extremely difficult. All he wanted to do was take his baby into his arms and kiss away every ache and pain in his beautiful body. But Phil wouldn't let him. In fact… it almost looked like Phil was _afraid_ of him. Other than this, what had Chris ever done to make Phil doubt him like this? The idea that he had hurt Phil, that he had betrayed him in some way, hurt more than he could ever say.

Not knowing what else to say, Chris shook his head and left Phil to his own devices. The Straight-Edge Savior fell down against the lockers, burying his head in his hands. He was so caught up in his emotions that he didn't notice the other man enter the room. The GM offered him a sickly smile, noting with twisted satisfaction the way his hand swelled underneath the tape. Entering the locker room, he waisted no time in landing a kick to Phil's stomach. The younger man wheezed as he collapsed.

John continued to let loose on the prone body, kicking and punching until Phil bit down hard on his lip ring and coated his lips and chin in blood. Phil curled up, bringing his knees to his chest. And just when he thought that he couldn't take another hit, John spit in his face. The broken Second City Saint lay on the floor, coated in blood, beer, and saliva. And John just smiled. Having finished what he had come for, he straightened his suit jacket and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Please Review!


	10. Chapter 10

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash

**Part:** 10/?

**OOOO**

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris saw the GM leave Phil's locker room. And, to make matters worse, there was blood on his hands. "What the _hell_ were you doing in my husband's locker room, Laurinaitis?" Chris hissed.

"Relax, Irvine." The GM answered calmly. "The poor kid bit his lip ring. There was blood _everywhere_. So, I handed him a towel and that was the end of it."

"Why don't I believe that?" Chris asked, before his eyes narrowed as the corner of John's mouth twitched.

"Whether you chose to believe it or not, that's the truth."

Chris watched as the GM walked away, wondering whether or not he should follow him and demand the truth. However, when he heard a muffled whimper from inside the locker room, all thoughts of John Laurinaitis went on the back burner. He needed to be there to help his baby, whether the younger man wanted him to be there or not. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to knock on the door. At the last second, he threw caution to the wind and stormed inside. Phil didn't even hear him come in.

His heart twisted at what he saw. The Second City Saint sat on the floor, the fresh white towel pressed to his face quickly absorbing all of the blood which flowed from his torn lip. His pale body was littered with bruises, and even some areas of his face were red and swollen. And he still smelled like 'a dirty, sleezy bar'. Gently, Chris knelt down beside the wounded man and touched a hand to his shoulder. Quickly, Phil flinched away as if he had been burned. Terrified olive eyes stared at him uncertainly, as if Chris would attack him at any moment.

"Phil…" Chris slowly reached forward, and when the back of his hand made contact with Phil's cheek, he stroked the soft flesh. "_Baby-boy…"_

"What do you want, Chris?" Phil asked, sounding defeated.

Chris tried to smile, but failed. "What happened to you, baby-boy?"

Phil shook his head, carefully removing the towel so that he could see the amount of blood that had been shed. It had soaked almost half the towel, and it wasn't done. "I just bit my lip ring. That's all. It doesn't really matter."

"What about all the bruises? Who did this to you?" Chris' free hand trailed down, dancing across the bruises carefully. Phil hissed, squeezing his eyes closed as he pressed a little too hard in certain areas, but he allowed the man to continue. "Was it Henry?"

"N-No… it wasn't Henry. And it doesn't matter. I'm fine." Phil lied. Chris could tell that it was a lie by the way Phil's voice trembled.

"Was it Laurinaitis?" Chris asked calmly.

Stormy olive-colored eyes blew wide. "No! Of course not. What reason would the GM have to hurt me?"

"Are you sure?" Chris asked.

Phil nodded slowly. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I should really just learn when to shut up. If I could filter half of the shit that came out of my mouth, maybe I wouldn't be in this situation."

"Baby-boy…" Chris reached down and took hold of Phil's wrists. "It does matter. It matters to me. _You_ matter to me."

"Why do you care so much?"

Chris kissed the back of his hand affectionately. "I care because I love you, baby-boy. You. Are. My. World. I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

Phil lowered his eyes. "If you loved me so much, why would you hurt me like this? Why would you ever _willingly_ hurt me?"

To be honest, Chris wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. He knew that there were a million ways to be a better husband – to turn down Creative's idea for the storyline, to stand between Henry and Phil in their match because he _knew_ that Henry was out to hurt him, to not break his vow of sobreity on live television. But he had done none of these things. Instead, he had belittled him and humilated him. He had made him hurt. He had been that schoolyard bully that Phil was so afraid of. And he hated himself for it.

Carefully, he reached out and took the Second City Saint into his arms. Phil fidgeted around for a few moments, not wanting to be so close to someone that he was currently so mad at. But then Chris kissed the back of his head, right over where the bottle would have connected. Right then, he didn't care that Phil smelled like he had had a horrible bender. He didn't care that he was bloodied and battered. This was still the man that he loved, and he would take care of him this time.

Slowly, he helped Phil to stand and eased him out of his trunks. There was nothing sexual about his actions, simply the want to take care of his baby and make him feel better. The two walked over to the shower stall, and Chris set the water on warm. Not even bothering to take his own clothes off, he lathered the soap on his hands and started to clean the beer and blood off of the perfect skin. Phil watched him, utterly confused and amazed at the same time. This was the man that he said that he hated, the man he said that he didn't want to be married to anymore… and yet he came back, and wanted to help him.

"I love you." A kiss to the cheek. "I love your smell." A kiss to the forehead. "I love your eyes." A kiss to the nose. "I love your mouth – even if it does cause trouble occasionally." A kiss to the cheekbone. "But most of all… I love your smile. Would you smile for me? Please, Philly?" When the small smile came, Chris kissed the bloody lips.

When his body was cleaned, Chris broke out the shampoo and lathered it. Gently, he reached up and started to massage his baby's scalp. Phil moaned, his body practically going limp in Chris' arms as the older man continued his minstrations. Chris knew full-well that that had always been a weakness of Phil's. Carefully, he rised out the goregous ravenette locks and turned the water off, tossing a towel in for Phil. Leisurely, the Second City Saint dried himself off, wandering back to his locker room to dress.

"I'm sorry that I ever hurt you." Chris said, still wet from their shower. Unlike Phil, he had no clothes to turn to. "I know that there is no way for me to head back in time and change the past. But if I could, I would."

Hesitantly, Phil looked at him. "I know that."

"Then… _please_… I know that I shouldn't really be able to ask you for anything, but I only have one small request." Chris said. "Please, Phil."

"What is it, Chris?"

Chris lowered his eyes. "Tell me that you love me too."

"I don't know if I ca-,"

"Please," there was a raw honesty in Chris' voice that made Phil tremble. "Try. Please."

Phil looked him over once, before he answered. "I love you too."

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Sorry for the late update, but I hope you liked it! So, Chris already has his suspicions about the GM. What will it take to send the GM over the line, and possibly seriously hurt Phil? And will Chris find out in time? Find out in the future chapters! Please Review!


	11. Chapter 11

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash, Possible Mpreg

**Part:** 11/?

**OOOO**

**(One Week Later)**

**OOOO**

"Shit." John hissed as Phil carefully washed the mist off of his face with a towel, and Phil could tell that he would have to flush his eyes several times before the burn went away. "Of all the wrestlers that he could have chosen, why did it have to be Lord freakin' Tensai?"

Phil shook his head. "Because he's a bastard that's abusing his power and hiding behind 'the people', that's why. Lord Tensai is out to _hurt_ the other wrestlers. You didn't deserve that. And you did your best."

Tears budded in John's blue eyes from the constant irritation. "I just… I feel like I'll never be able to come back from my loss to the Rock. The GM won't let me." Phil took a clean towel and started to wash his face. "I hate this."

Phil smirked. "Don't we all?"

"But what about you, Phil?" John asked, watching as Phil's hands and eyes traveled down to wash the little droplets of mist that had collected on his neck and chest. "Your storyline with Chris, that is."

"Chris just made the biggest mistake of his life, thinking that he can beat me in a Chicago street fight. And honestly, until then, I really could care less if he dropped off of the face of the earth." Phil said seriously.

"He really hurt you, didn't he?" John asked, concerned.

"He lied to me." Phil looked down at the ruined towel in his hands. "He said that this was over. And then he poured beer on me."

"I'm sorry, Philly." John said.

Phil tried to shake it off. "It's not your fault. It's not like you were the one who did this to me."

John took his hand, looking at him seriously for a moment. Finally, he asked: "Phil… you remember that kiss that we had in that little café last month?"

Phil nodded, his olive eyes wide. "Yeah. What about it?"

"It didn't upset you, did it?" John asked.

Phil shook his head, confused. "Why would it upset me?"

"'Cause…" John leaned in, so close that he could smell the soap that clung to Phil's still-wet body. Phil shivered at how close they were, but made no move to move away. "…I kinda want another one."

At last, John closed the final distance between them and locked their mouths in a passionate embrace. Phil felt his heart hammer in his chest, a reaction that he had once believed only came when he was with Chris. Slowly, his olive eyes slid closed and he leaned in closer. His t-shirt clad chest was pressed to Cena's bare one, where beads of murky water still trickled down the sculpted skin. John's hands knotted in Phil's silky, sodden ebony tresses. And Phil's own arms hooked around the older man's neck and held his body close.

It felt like an eternity since he had been kissed like this. Sure, when he had showered with Chris after last week's Raw, the man had kissed his face and worshipped his body. But when was the last time that Chris had kissed him so violently, so _possessively_? When was the last time that he had staked his claim on the Straight-Edge Savior, marking him for everyone to see? It had to have been months now. His husband had been so different ever since he came back to the WWE, and all he wanted was some semblance of normality. This was as close as he could come.

Neither noticed the door open. The husband whom Phil had thought of so fondly not five seconds before stood on the other side of the door to Phil's locker room, confused and hurt. For one, he didn't understand why Phil would have invited John to his locker room. And the other… why was Phil kissing him so passionately? It was almost as if his life depended on it. And it reminded Chris of the way that Phil used to kiss _him._ Finally, Chris felt the familiar burn of tears start to irritate his eyes. He couldn't take another minute of this. So he left.

John was the first to pull back. "That was -,"

"Wonderful." Phil finished for him, a small smile on his face.

"Yeah." John nodded. "I should probably head back to my locker room and get changed so that I can go to the hotel and sleep for one hundred years. But we should get together some time. Call me so that we can set it up."

Phil nodded, the smile never faltering. "Sure. That's sounds perfect."

**OOOO**

Phil was walking down the abandoned halls of the backstage area at around 1:00 AM, when most of the other members of the roster had taken to the hills and run for the cover of their hotel rooms. Phil had stayed behind to call his mother. Now, more than ever, he needed her support. It would be just like the GM to make him drop his title to his own husband in his home town. Phil shook his head, absently patting his jeans pocket where the phone sat. It was dark, and he had to walk carefully to make sure that he didn't stumble and fall.

"You weren't supposed to win the damn match, Brooks!" A black mass in the darkness seethed, before two hands reached out and shoved him back into a solid structure – most likely a table.

The gym bag that had all of his wrestling gear flew across the room, forgotten. Slowly, Phil climbed up from his position on the floor, delerious with pain. He had managed to hit the area of his back that was still hurting from Henry's Power Slam several hours earlier. It was so dark that he did not see where the punches were coming from, only that there were so many that it couldn't be just one man. The wound at his lip ring burst and bloodied his face again. It burned.

Curses flew from his mouth as he was beaten down into a corner, bloodied and broken. The loud _pop_ of a cork coming out of a bottle followed, and in his weakened state, he didn't notice the distinct scent of liquor until it was too late. All of a sudden, the cold liquid splashed on the crown of his head and splattered on the walls all around. He whimpered pathetically, kicking out to try and reach his unseen attacker, but he was unable to connect any of his blows. When the bottle was empty, the offendor smashed it on the back of his head. His vision wavered, not that he could really tell in the darkness.

Tears silently streaked down his face as a large, heavy foot made contact with his abdomen. He howled, falling on the glass and wrapping his arms around his stomach to stop the painful blows. But he was simply rolled onto his side, a foot coming to rest on his chest… and then the other. Four-hundred pounds pressed down on his chest, and he could literally _feel_ his bones _bending_ under the pressure. He screamed, knowing that no-one could hear him. But soon, it was a lost cause, because he had lost all of his air. He floundered, gasping. The attackers laughed.

Blood slowly oozed from the areas were the glass was now imbedded into his skin. He could feel bile rise in his throat from the sheer amount of alcohol that he wore… the stuff Chris doused him with was _never_ this potent. Or was it from something else entirely? Weakly, he tried to buck off the man once more, but it was no use. With a soft mewl, he succumbed to the inevitable and passed out. But even then, the pressure did not let up. In fact, it spread out. One foot was now on the rib cage, and the other at the juction between Phil's neck and shoulders.

"You won't make it to Extreme Rules, Phil! Consider this your warning. Drop the title, or suffer the… unfortunate consequences." The man hissed, before he spit in Punk's face.

Seconds later, the man stepped down and the lights turned on. But the only man standing there was Chris. Chris… who had a glass beer bottle in his hand. He looked unsettled and agigtated, but when his blue eyes fell on Phil, they widened considerably and he rushed over to him. His breath smelled of liquor, but he wasn't drunk. Phil shook his head. Trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for his presence at the arena at this time of night, he found himself with more questions than answers. Had Chris been one of the ones to attack him?

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Well… here it is! I was watching Raw last night and I was soooooo scared for poor Punky. I mean, I love him and have faith in him and all, but I was sure that Mark Henry was going to kill him. So the fact that he retained his title was a pleasant surprise.

Can you name Phil's attackers? There was a big hint about one of them. :)

Please Review!


	12. Chapter 12

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Phil, Jeff/Adam

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems as if there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash, Possible Mpreg

**Part:** 12/13

**OOOO**

"Phil, baby…" Chris tossed the bottle aside and knelt down in front of his baby boy. Phil was crying softly, his left hand coated in blood from where he had landed on the broken bottle. "Shit, baby, who did this to you?"

Phil tried to talk, but instead he started to wheeze. He still didn't have full control over his breath.

Chris shook his head. "Nevermind, don't answer that. Just, shh…" he softly shushed him. "…let me take care of you. I can't stand to see you like this, baby-boy. It hurts me almost as much as it hurts you."

All Phil could do was nod. He wanted to feel better so badly… all he wanted was someone to comfort him.

Carefully, Chris lifted Phil's shirt. "Shit, baby… you need stitches. That bottle tore you up." Frantically, he searched for his cell, only to remember that he had left it back at the hotel. "Okay, um… how much can you move? Not that much, huh? Okay then, it's time for Plan B."

Gently, Chris lifted Phil into his arms and watched as the ravenette rested his head on his shoulder. Blood slowly leaked onto his shirt from the shift, but soon it slowed. Chris couldn't even remember the kiss that had made him so furious two hours before. All he could see was his baby-boy, broken and bloodied in the corner. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Phil. But what he _did_ know was that he would hunt down the men that had hurt his baby and make them hurt in return.

"Chrissy…" Phil wheezed, his bloody hand bunching the material of Chris' shirt until the fabric wrinkled. "I-I'm sorry that I didn't tell you this before. I l-love you."

Chris kissed his forehead. "I love you too, baby-boy."

Chris carried him out of the arena and toward his car, not wanting to waste anymore time. Carefully, he shifted Phil so that he could open the door, and then he slid him into the passenger seat. He knew that the rental company would come after him for the blood stains on the cloth interior, but he really didn't care. Right now, all he cared about was Phil. He went to close the door, but Phil wouldn't release him. He had this look of undeniable terror in his eyes, and it made Chris' heart ache.

Slowly, Chris removed Phil's hand from his shirt and showered the trembling hand with kisses. Phil offered him a watery smile, before he allowed Chris to buckle him in and tuck him safely into the car. Quickly, he rushed over to the other side and climbed in. Phil was unconscious by the time he started the car, but when he offered his free hand to the younger man, he latched onto it for dear life. Chris took a deep breath to calm his nerves, he pulled out of the parking lot and started off in the direction of the hospital.

**OOOO**

**(Five Hours Later)**

**OOOO**

Phil's eyes slowly flickered open, taking in his white-washed surroundings with some confusion. He felt pain… but it wasn't overbearing. No, it was more distant, almost like an annoying buzz in the background. Slowly, he turned his neck, trying to get accustomed to moving after being still for so long. He didn't even know how long he had been out, but he figured it had to have been some time if the pain had dwindled this much. And then, his olive eyes fell on the hand interlaced with his. Chris sat in the EZ-chair beside him, and Phil knew that his eyes had never left him.

"Chris -," Phil started, but Chris cut him off.

"No, Phil. This is my fault. I don't know who did this to you… but I should have tried harder to find out. When I found you on the floor like that… God, I just wanted to _hurt_ someone. I wanted to hurt the bastard that did this to you." Chris said, his voice raw.

Phil nodded slowly, his eyes searching Chris for any sign of a lie. "I have to know this, Chris. When you said that you wanted no part in this storyline, that you never meant to hurt me – my mind or my body – did you mean it?"

Chris leaned forward, tears bristling in his eyes. "I've never meant anything more truly then that, Phil."

"You asked me, last week, who it was that had attacked me. And I told you that it didn't matter. I acted like I didn't know." Phil looked down at the white linens on the bed. "It was all a lie. I didn't want you to know how afraid I was. Because… the man who attacked me… was John Laurinaitis."

Chris' eyes widened, and he made to stand. Phil, startled, refused to release his hand. "That slimy little bastard! He thinks that he can put his hands on _my_ baby and walk away unharmed?"

"Chris!" Phil shouted. "Don't hurt him! Don't you realize that that's what he wants? He wants to mess with our heads."

"I never wanted to contest that match with Bethany and Carolina… or even with Daylee. It was all the GM's idea. He threatened my job." Chris confessed. "But that shouldn't have mattered. I never should've done what I did."

"It may not have been the best choice." Phil confessed. "But you did what you believed you had to at the time…"

"What did he hold over you?" The blond asked, his voice strained.

Phil looked down at his sheets. "He said that I couldn't tell you. He said that you wouldn't believe me anyway."

"And you believed him?" He could barely contain the astonished tone of his voice.

"What else was I supposed to believe? You betrayed me!"

Chris rose out of the chair, unable to handle being confined for another moment. He couldn't stand this. All of this time, it had been the GM that had stood between him and his happiness. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not seen the obvious signs? John Laurinaitis _hated_ the fact that Phil spoke his mind so freely, and would do _anything_ to silence him… even create such a horrible match that could possibly end Phil's career. Not that the GM would have minded. It would be a weight off of his shoulders.

Reaching the far side of the room, he turned back to look at Phil on the small hospital bed. His hair was loose of the normal amount of gel, and his lip ring sat on the bedside table. He wouldn't be able to wear it until his lip healed fully. The nurses had taken his shirt, and had removed each and every piece of glass. Thick, white strips of gauze were tapped onto his abdomen to cover the wounds. And yet, somehow, he would be cleared to compete come Monday… that was, if he stayed off his feet and relaxed for the rest of the week.

"But… there's still more that I have to tell you, Chris. I _knew_ about your second title shot even before you did. Granted, I didn't know about the Extreme Rules stipulation, but…" Phil trailed off, uncertain.

Chris motioned for him to continue. "How did you know this, baby-boy?"

The Second City Saint smiled at the beloved nickname. But then, his smile faltered. "I had just been counted out from my first match with Henry. And I was on my way to my locker room when I 'walked into' the GM's fist."

"He's lain his hands on you before?" The blond seethed.

"It wasn't the first time. And it certainly won't be the last."

"Yes. Yes, it will." Chris said, rushing back over to his husband's side and taking the smaller man's hand in his own. "We'll take this to the Board of Directors and have his sorry ass fired. And then, we'll take this to court and settle this at the cost of millions. He screwed with the wrong people, baby."

Phil was silent for a moment, and then he asked: "Chris?"

"What is it, baby-boy?"

"Where do we stand, now?" Phil asked, wanting to make sure that they were back on the same page. All he wanted was his husband back.

Chris studied the smaller man for a moment. They shouldn't be okay. Not after everything that they had gone through. But Chris just kept going back to the image of Phil in the corner… and it terrified him. What if he hadn't come around the corner at that moment? What if Phil had lain there and bled to death? How could he ever forgive himself? No, it was finally time to bury the hatchet. After Extreme Rules, all of this would officially be over. They would never let another storyline come between them like this.

"Chris…" Phil asked uncertainly.

"We're fine, Philly. We're just fine." Chris answered, kissing the back of Phil's hand softly.

**OOOO**

**(The Next Day)**

**OOOO**

"You don't have to worry about a thing, baby. I'll be especially careful with you." Chris smiled, before softly trailing kisses down Phil's neck. When he reached his collar bone, he suckled the warm flesh until a red bruise appeared.

A hand trailed up and pressed the tattoo behind Phil's ear, and the smaller man let out an excited whimper. "Don't be a fuckin' tease, Irvine! C'mon…"

Chris 'tsked'. "Patience, child. Patience."

Phil's olive eyes widened. "If you call me a child one more time, I swear no sex for two weeks!"

"Fine, how is 'extremely horny man-child'." Chris offered, while shooting his husband a look that said 'you wouldn't even make it two weeks anyway'.

"Fuck you, Irvine!" Blunt nails cut across Chris' already bare back in frustration.

"Actually, dearest, I believe that _I_ will be the one fucking _you_." Chris clarified, before he took Phil's shirt off.

Carefully, Chris spread Phil's jean-clad thighs and climbed between them, leaning down to lavish that beautifully decorated chest with the attention that it deserved. He laved his tongue over the colorful artwork, paying careful attention to the skull on Phil's right pectoral. If he pressed down just hard enough… a loud moan tore from the ravenette's throat, and his hips thrust up to brush against Chris' barely constrained manhood. Slowly, Chris continued downward. He wove a path between the wounds, fearful of the pain they could cause if he touched them.

Finally, he reached the button of Phil's jeans. Frantic hands beat him to it, however. Quickly, the jeans were unbuttoned and the zipper slid down, before they were taken off and thrown onto the other side of the room. The boxers followed soon after. This left Phil, his Punk, in all of his naked glory, spread out on the bed beneath him. Chris studied the bruises that had started to fade thoughtfully, and once again he was reminded of Phil's body coated in crimson blood. But Phil's lips pressed against his own broke him from that state of mind. Now, it was all about the pleasure.

Watching as the Second City Saint crawled forward, careful not to twist so much that he would accidentally hurt himself, he took the waistband of Chris' boxers in his teeth and pulled them down swiftly, Chris moaning lustfully as those want-hazed olive eyes fixed on his erection. But, as much as he wanted to feel Phil's warm lips wrapped around his weeping erection, there would be time for that later. At that moment, he wanted to feel an even tighter heat wrapped around him. He reached into the bedside table and took out the lube.

He quickly slicked up one finger and slid it inside of Phil, watching his face screw up in pain. "Talk to me, baby-boy. Tell me that you love me."

"You know that I do." Phil moaned out as the finger brushed against his sensitive walls, but then the finger stopped.

"Of course I _know_ the answer." Chris retorted matter-of-factly. "I just want to hear you say it."

"I love you… you damn motherfucker, _move_!" Chris mumbled about 'his baby had such a dirty little mouth'. "Of for the love of… A-AH!" Chris violently (but carefully) shoved two more fingers in and slammed them into Phil's prostate.

"You ready to take it, baby?" Chris asked, voice dripping with honey-sweet seduction.

"N-Now…"

Not wanting to keep his baby waiting any longer, he quickly slicked himself and aimed himself at the puckered entrance. There was a moment of silence as their eyes locked, a silent wave of trust flowing between them. It was like the final confirmation that everything was, in fact, okay now. Phil wouldn't try and leave him again. Phil would stay by his side through it all, and they would battle the beast known as John Laurinaitis together. And when Phil nodded slowly, Chris thrust in until he was fully seated in the smaller man.

"Fuck!" Phil hissed out, arching his back.

"Are you okay, baby-boy?" Chris asked, concerned. He didn't like the way that Phil arched, what with the stitches in his abdomen and stomach…

"I'm fine." Phil was quick to assure him. "'Just never get use to that, that's all."

Assured that his baby was okay, he slowly started to pull out until only the head remained. And then, quickly, he snapped his hips forward and impaled Phil on his cock. He started a hard and fast rhythm, always careful to ensure that Phil didn't bounce too much on the bed or rub against the blankets too harshly. When he felt the smaller man start to writhe beneath him, whining sweetly as his walls clenched around Chris' manhood, Chris quickly stroked him to completion. When the first waves of orgasam hit Phil, Chris was thrown over the edge as well.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Chris fell onto the bed beside Phil and wrapped the smaller man in his arms. Taking a spare shirt, he cleaned his and Phil's essence off of the smaller man. "I love you, baby-boy. Never doubt that."

"I love you too, Chrissy. And I know." Phil buried his face in Chris' chest. "You did the impossible, Chris. You finally managed to make it better…"

**OOOO**

**A/N:** Well, I finally made a long chapter! Yeah! I hope you guys like and will review… pretty please? I love reviews!


	13. Chapter 13

**Title:** Make It Better

**Rated:** M (Mature)

**Genre(s):** Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Pair(s):** Jericho/Phil, John/Mike

**Summary:** Sequel to _Please, Don't Leave Me._ Chris has finally pushed Phil too far. After his actions on Raw, it seems that there is no way for him to redeem himself in Phil's eyes. Is there any way to make it better?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, besides my OCs.

**Warning:** Slash, Mentioned Mpreg

**Part:** 13/13

**A/N:** Well, this is the last chapter. This was my project for so long… I don't know what I am going to do without it! Oh well. Maybe I'll find another couple and dissect their storyline…

**OOOO**

It was the Monday after Extreme Rules. Chris had been true to his word and had not mentioned alcohol once, nor had he brutally attacked Phil's body… or his mind. The two had confronted the Board of Directors about the incident with John Laurinaitis, who had been fired immediately and had charges pending for assault. However, the other two attackers had never been found. Even with the clip from the surveillance video, it had been much too dark to make out more than the backs of their heads and the outline of their bodies.

Now, Phil lay curled in Chris' arms, the other man tenderly kissing the crown of his head as he iced the bruises on the smaller man's ribs. Phil's ribs had taken the brunt of the assault when Chris had found him two weeks back, and now they were littered with bruises once more. He felt bad, sure, but he knew that they didn't hurt nearly as much as they did when that mass rested on them. A small smile formed when Phil shivered from the touch of the cold compress. The pale body cowered closer to him for warmth.

"Chris?" Phil asked after a moment of silence, his olive eyes carefully looking over his husband to read his current emotions. "There's something that I need to tell you."

Immediately, Chris was overcome with concern. He drew the smaller man closer and slowly rocked him back and forth. "What's the matter, baby? Did someone hurt you?"

"No. No, I'm fine. Absolutely fine." Phil quickly assured him.

"Then what's the matter?" Chris asked.

Slowly, Phil looked down at his flat stomach. Shortly after the attack, he had been to see the doctor to check-in and see how his body was recouperating – basically, to make sure that his body was ready to take on the stress of Extreme Rules. He had mentioned that he hadn't been feeling one-hundred percent, and the doctor had run some… rather unusual tests. And now, he had the most wonderful news to tell Chris. But how would Chris take it? Would Chris want to be with him if he knew?

Phil was silent for a moment, which only served to make Chris more worried. Finally, he asked: "How do you feel about children?"

Confused, Chris asked: "What do you mean?"

"I mean… theoretically, of course… would you want children? Maybe a little boy that we could name after you, or a little girl with your eyes? Have you ever thought about it?" Phil ranted.

"Philly…" he kissed the smaller man's forehead. "Of course I want children. And the fact that they'd be with you? They'd be perfect, Philly. Perfect."

"What if I said that we could have one?" Phil muttered softly.

"You mean…" Chris trailed off, almost unable to believe it.

"Yeah." Phil nodded slowly. "We're gonna have a baby."

Immediately, Chris drew Phil into his arms and kissed him so hard that it stole both of their breath away. Phil's eyes widened in shock, before they slowly slid closed and he melted into the enthusiastic embrace. He loved this man so much… how could he ever have doubted that he loved him as well? And now, their little family was going to be complete. Everything was perfect. Chris slowly drew back, and Phil's eyes opened. They exchanged a look, before Phil's eyes fell on his bare hand. Well… almost perfect.

Chris seemed to understand what we going through the ravenette's mind, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring. It was the same ring that Phil had thrown at him almost two months ago. Tears budded in the soft, olive eyes as Chris tenderly took his hand and slid the ring on. And then he kissed each individual knuckle, the palm of his hand, and the back of his hand. He tried to convey how much he loved the other man, that he wanted to be with him forever, and that nothing else would ever come between them. And it worked.

**OOOO**

"Johnny?" Mike slowly pushed the door open to his boyfriend's locker room and welcomed himself inside. It was cold and dark, but he could make out the large form of his boyfriend on the couch.

John's eyes shot open and the familiar voice, which now trembled as if the owner was trying desperately to hold back tears. "Mikey?"

And then, the form raced through the darkness and threw itself into John's arms. The Cenation Hero was forced back into the couch, the furniture item almost toppling over under the combined weight of both of the wrestlers. He felt the brunette tremble in his arms, his tears soaking his shirt. So he gently rocked the smaller man back and forth, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to try and calm him. He didn't think that he had ever seen the brunette in such a state of disarray. It unsettled him.

"I'm so sorry, Johnny." Mike's voice trembled as he spoke, but he tried desperately to hold himself together. "I should have never said those things to you. I've been miserable without you. So please… _please_ take me back."

"Shh…" John slowly stroked the loose brown hairs. "Shh… its okay."

"No, it's not!" Mike insisted. "I hurt you. I _wanted_ to hurt you. But it broke me too…"

"Shh…" John just continued to shush him until he quieted down. "I love you, baby-boy. Nothing is ever going to change that, do you understand? We just hit a little roadblock, that's all. We're fine now."

"Really?" Mike asked uncertainly.

"Really." John assured him.

"I love you too, John." Mike leaned forward, and the two shared a heated kiss. The rest of the world was forgotten around them.

**OOOO**

**A/N:** And that's the story! So, who do you think I should write about next? I need inspiration!

Please Review!


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